What Did You Learn From Your Mom?
This is my mom when she was about 18 years old, circa 1952, in her hometown of Osaka, Japan.
I love the polka dots, the white purse, her hair wavy and a bit wild, and the way she’s posing on the rock with her hand outstretched. She looks like she dolled herself up for an outing with my father.
They met during the Korean War when my dad was in the U.S. military. She was a seamstress and he needed her help with his uniform. They fell instantly in lust.
She saw him as a knight in shining armor and believed he could rescue her.
Mom had a horrible childhood growing up during World War II. Her father abandoned the family and took her brothers to Korea, leaving his wife and three daughters. This was very much against Japanese culture and was a huge source of shame for my mom. Later in life she refused to leave my father (he worked too much, drank too much and wasn’t faithful) - she said she didn’t want us to grow up without a dad because she knew the pain of a broken family.
When she was 8 years old, she was sent to a farm to earn money to support her mother and sisters. As a result she wasn’t able to finish elementary school and it was one of her greatest losses. She loved to learn and encouraged it in me — always finding ways to pay for books, record albums, comics, lessons — anything that I had a sense of curiosity about. Education and being a life long learner was one of her core values, and it’s one that I hold as well.
About once a year, we’d take a family trip to the big city - Chicago - to the part of town that had a Japanese food store. She’d stock up on rice, seaweed, and other ingredients we couldn’t get at the local Jewel grocery story — and a few magazines from Japan. Then we’d have lunch underneath the “El” at a tiny Japanese restaurant while the entire building shook as trains rattled over head. I would have shrimp tempura, dad would have udon noodles with breaded pork, mom would have Chirashi (raw fish on seasoned rice.) On the way home, I’d eat Japanese candy in the backseat of our Chevy Impala: caramels and sweet gelatin wrapped in clear edible rice paper.
Those trips taught me the value of tradition — and how rituals make me feel safe. It also exposed me to new foods like raw fish that we couldn’t have at home. I learned the value of an open-mind and trying something before saying “no.” I also learned the value of honoring my Japanese heritage despite living in middle America in an all white neighborhood.
Here’s another pic of my mother.
This is circa 1967 in the backyard of the house my parents owned in Bellwood, Illinois. More polka dots and a sweet pose with her hand outstretched again. And instead of a white purse, she’s holding a pair of sunglasses. She looks happy here — like she’s been rescued and has the life she wished she had as a child.
My mom planted values of hope and courage in me that blossomed in my own journey away from home to pursue a career in Hollywood. Those values also stabilized me during tumultuous times in my marriage. And today they help me lean into curiosity and to listen with an open-heart when I encounter people who don’t share my values.
What did your mom teach you?
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